Curing Loneliness
by ello-sketchie
Summary: Sometimes it is important to choose love over war. ((Medic x Scout, Gender-bent Medic. WARNINGS: Age-Gap relationship, fornication, and Love Affair. Rated M for later chapters.))
1. Chapter 1: Einsamkeit

Chapter 1: Einsamkeit

* * *

The RED team's Medic carefully stroked with her right hand the resting dove that sat upon her shoulder. It cooed happily and warmly at her delicate touch, nuzzling up against her with delight.

She frowned at the small bird. The way it was pleased with her love. The way it was enjoying having somebody to care for it, always be there for it to make it feel better when it was sad.

There was something bothering her. Something that had been bothering her for several months. Something that would never leave her mind, itching at the back of her mind every day. Whenever she was eating breakfast, taking a shower, working in her office, there it was. Causing her annoying headaches and depression.

No matter what situation she was in or what feeling she held at the time, the bother always came back, haunting her; causing her sadness and sometimes anger. She would shut herself out from her teammates at several times, too. It was beginning to sicken her….

The only issue with this was, she did not know what she was feeling, not at all. No matter how long or strongly she would think about it, she could not guess or discover. The feeling always held back the strength of her thought.

Perhaps she was feeling upset about something...

No... Not upset... Upset was the feeling she got when something that she had put effort into ended up not working the proper way she wanted to. Maybe what she was feeling was...

Anger... No, it could not be. Anger was the feeling she got when nobody was listening or paying attention when she was attempting to make a proper statement. Perhaps the feeling was...

Greed... No... It was not greed. She never felt greedy during these situations. Nor was it wrath, or gluttony... or any of the seven sins. None of those at all. What she was feeling was something that not a simple pill or any sort of medication could rid. What she was feeling was something that nobody wishes to feel for this long. What she was feeling was...

Loneliness...

Loneliness it was. She was feeling more and more lonely every day. And she had no idea that it was loneliness. It was eating her alive and there was nothing she could do about it until she discovered what was causing it. That was another thing that bothered her. She did not know what it was.

It was not her job, she loved her work. Her teammates were kind to her, She had plenty of things to do, she was never bored, Always new things to discuss and earn, and the pay was fantastic. It was not her job. Her job did not make her lonely.

However, her job was _part _of the problem. she did have a clue as to what the main cause of the depression was...

After her application had been accepted by the Mann Co. industries to join the team of Reliable Evacuation Demolition, She needed to leave her home in Germany, abandoning her husband. He was quite as upset as she was when he realized she had to leave. Without his love at home, there was nothing he could hold at night, nothing he could kiss, or cry to when he was sad. Medic felt the same way. Her husband may have been smarter, stronger, and maybe even a bit more advanced than her, but she missed him. A lot. And living at the base for more than two years had not done her any good at all. It was just one more thing to be depressed about.

The rest of the team did not quite know about her husband yet, but they might as well know soon before they start inquiring about her depression. She did her best to keep her husband close. Under the glove upon her left hand's ring finger lies a diamond ring, the one she wore during her wedding. She had no photos of her husband that she was allowed to bring, her husband wanted to keep them so he could look at them when he missed her. So the only thing Medic had to remind herself of his warm embrace was that ring.

She was getting sick of looking at the ring as well. It pained her, but she never wanted to take it off because that would upset her more. She kept her gloves on most of the time, and did take it off when preforming surgery to prevent it getting lost. But all the ring did was remind her of her husband, making her feel more and more lonely. Make her feel sick, depressed, and mad. Very mad, very grumpy, and very _very_ desperate for the loneliness to go away.

But no matter how much time she spent with the team, no matter how many doves she let flutter around her office, there was an emptiness in her heart she could not fill. And it bothered her to the point of extreme anxiety.

She needed her man, her love, to hold her, and make her feel worth something.

This was all too much for her. But she had lots work to do, and this feeling was not going to hold her back from that in any way.

* * *

"Aufwachen, Herr Scout!" She demanded, glaring down at the sleeping male, tangled in his bed sheets, dawning in nothing but a pair of grey boxer shorts. "It is going to be a big day today! Take your shower and eat breakfast."

The scout groaned and tugged the covers a bit more over himself. So typical of him…he never did get out of bed when told. Even when the team's Soldier marched down the hallways with a trumpet, Scout ignored the noise and stayed in his bed. Maybe not asleep, but still comfortable.

Medic had to wake him up most of the time. Growing up in a small town in Germany with no parents to care for her, she was taken into an orphanage and raised by the strict caretakers. So, she knew all about how to be dominant and strict, and with Scout being the childish person he was, she ended up being strict quite a lot.

"Get up, Junge!" She boomed at him stomping her foot down on the floor aggressively.

"Five more minutes..." Scout grumbled, reaching for a second pillow to hold against the side of his head. Medic was getting annoyed by the boys stubborn behavior. She was not willing to put up with this garbage anymore. She had dealt with it more than enough times, and she knew what to do in this situation. She grabbed the bed sheets and tugged hard, throwing Scout off of the bed and making him land on the floor flat on his face.

There was a thump at that action, and Scout immediately jumped up from the pile of sheets and pillows that now lay upon the floor of his room. This was not the first time it had happened, and clearly not the last time it would happen.

"Jeez, Doc..." He complained. "Do ya gotta do that every frikkin' mornin'?"

Medic turned around to exit the room. "Nein, but it seems I have to considering zhe fact you are never able to get out of your own bed."

"Why don't ya do it to anyone else on th' team?"

"Because, zhey all seem to know how to get out of zhere beds on schedule."

Scout growled. He knew that the doctor was correct, but he felt that it did not give her the right to throw him off of his own bed. "Ya know Doc, you are like, the queen of bitches. Like... You cannot be compared to any otha' bitch 'cause you would outmatch 'em."

"Hmmph." Medic marched out angrily to the shower rooms. On the way there, however, she felt a bit of regret. She was tired herself, she could not argue. If she was forced out of bed like the way she did to the Scout every morning she would be as grumpy and irritated as he was.

But that was nothing compared to how grumpy and ticked off she was herself. What would it matter, anyways? The most sleep she had gotten during these past months was about three hours a night. It gave her migraines, headaches, and regret. No matter how hard she tried she could not sleep. It was not only the constant work and papers she had to file, but the depression that stabbed her mind every other day. The depression she wanted gone.

She tried phone calling her husband every once in a while, but no matter how many times she tried, he would never pick up. Not even once. He had called her once, to check up on her. but that was months ago. He never called back after that, and never answered the phone. Medic started to worry for him. Was he okay? Is he hurt? Does he need me? Is he as lonely as I am? She would never know until she returned to Germany to reunite with him once again.

* * *

Once Medic had made her way to the shower rooms, she sat down upon one of the benches. She would need to wait for the males of the team to finish their showers. It was very inappropriate for a married woman to take a shower with a man she was not related to in any way, even if she did know them well as a teammate.

It was not long before Heavy Weapons guy had entered the shower rooms. Heavy was the biggest male on the team, the man that nobody picked a fight with. Medic looked up at him as he walked by. The Heavy was a strong and bold man, he was intelligent and even caring once you got to know him. Medic looked up to him as a role model sometimes. She always wondered if he ever dealt with depression. Probably not, considering he had a strange relationship with his minigun, who he loved and cared for and never left alone. He even slept with the gun sometimes. And if you touched that gun, he would threaten you. Nobody ever touched his gun, nor did they understand his strange obsession over it.

"Doktor?" A voice called.

Medic shook her head and looked up. Heavy was standing in front of her, looking down with curiosity. She had not been paying attention; Heavy had probably walked up to her while she was thinking.

"Hallo, Heavy..." Medic muttered with no effort. Honestly she did not feel like talking right now.

The Heavy wanted to talk though. He had noticed Medic sitting by herself. He knew why, of course, but he found it sad. He had noticed her constant frowning, wherever she was. He knew something was going up. He needed to help her, and talking to her about it was the best he could do at the moment.

"Doktor looks upset dis week. Is someting bozhering her?"

"Nein..." Medic lied. Of course something was bothering her. She just felt she was not ready to tell anybody about it yet.

"But doktor is looking very sad-"

"I am fine, Herr Heavy... Leave me alone, bitte..." She cut him off. That sentence came out a bit more rude than she intended, but she did want to be left alone.

"Okay..." Heavy sighed and frowned as he left, feeling upset himself. Medic was feeling even more regret now. Why was this happening to her? This anxiety was consuming her. And she was lashing out on her teammates. Last week she had aggressively yelled at her team's Sniper when he started talking to her about love. And a few days before that, she had kicked her team's Demoman out of her office when he started talking about how he was feeling lonely.

Whenever the depression struck on her, Medic struck on her teammates. And there was nothing she could do about it. She took pills, kept a balanced diet, and still, It was eating her alive. No matter how hard she tried, it became stronger.

* * *

Medic sat there for a half hour or so before all the males had left the shower room. She grumbled as she got up, finding it offensive that the males did not let her shower before they did. What ever happened to the saying of 'Ladies First'? As she got undressed, she walked into the shower and turned the knob to the cold setting.

Nobody knew why Medic liked cold showers; everybody else on the team either took warm or hot showers. Most of them found the doctor's liking for cold showers a 'woman' thing. To be truthful, most women hated cold showers. Medic just enjoyed them for the chill, and the cold shower usually gave her a memory. She remembered walking through the cold rain on a spring day with her husband, how he would hold her hand, how he would keep her close...

Oh god, there it was again. How could she get her mind off of her depression if she kept thinking about the cause of it? How could she feel better if her happy memories kept turning into regretful ones? It pained her so...

Medic tilted her head back, and let the cold drops of water rinse her body. It was the only sensation she had acquired so far today...

* * *

After taking another lonely, depressing shower, Medic dried herself off with a clean towel and got dressed in some fresh clothes. Her wardrobe every day was quite the same. Some well-made undergarments, a lovely suit, a pair of stockings and some white nurse shoes. They looked lovely on her every day, she always looked so clean and well dressed.

Her wardrobe was not a problem at all, it was her hair. After every shower, of course, she needed to dry and brush her hair. And she utterly dreaded looking at her hair in the mirror.

Medic was only two months away from 50 years of age, so of course she had some grey hairs growing. But most of those grey hairs came from her anger, and her depression. She did her best to hide them and make them look natural by putting her hair up in a bundle, but even then she still hated the look of it. She wished she could just shave her head sometimes, but that would look even worse. She needed to live with it.

She made her way to the meal table for her morning food. This was the area the team ate breakfast and dinner, lunch was usually eaten on the battlefield. Today the breakfast was Toast, Bacon, and Eggs. Typical. They usually had that combination for breakfast, considering that was the only breakfast the Soldier could cook. Nobody bothered about it, the bacon tasted fine and the eggs and toast were alright. All the Scout wanted to munch on was pancakes, nobody really knew why, and nobody asked. Nobody really asked Scout anything.

Sitting down at the table, nibbling slowly on a warm strip of bacon that had been waiting for her at the table, Medic looked around at everyone else there. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves. The Engineer was having a chat with the Sniper, The Spy was enjoying a smoke, the Pyro was playing with his food, everyone seemed to be happy.

Except herself.

She was getting sick of it.

* * *

_You have every right to be upset,_

_Every right to be angry._

_But please,_

_Do not let it consume you._


	2. Chapter 2: Kampf

Chapter 2: Kampf

What better way to spend the day than another battle? She spent hours a day, running across a dry battlefield healing the teammates with low amounts of blood that needed her assistance. Nothing different. She did do her best to pig in on the action of cutting and shooting the opposite team instead of healing her own team, but honestly she did not care anymore. Her anxiety and pain had grown much to strong. She did not even give a care if her healed teammate did not thank her afterwards.

Nowadays, she spent most of the battle sitting in the spawn room alone. No matter how many calls for her were shouted, all she would do is sit in the Spawn room, hoping that they could find a Medkit on their own.

She never really was alone in the spawn room, no. There were always teammates respawning after they had been fatally shot by one of the members on the opposing team. Every once in a while, one would respawn and tell her to go and get on the battlefield and begin doing her job properly, but she would always slouch and reply with a simple 'Nein'.

It was not that she did not want to participate in battle, the fight always got her adrenaline pumping, and it was always healthy to release energy. She knew that, and a lot of other healthy routines as well. But no, it was not the battle. It was the memories that haunted her.

It was not the memories of her husband, no no. It was memories of what happened before she was married. Memories she prayed to forget, dreaded to think about. Jut the simple thought of them made her sick, hurt, and depressed. Now she had two horrible memories on her mind.

This memory, the one that haunted her during battle, this one was much worse. This one, she dreaded to remember. Medic did her very best to not think about it, but just like her husband, the memory never left her mind. It was impossible. It was simply dreadful. And there was nothing she could do about it. It was all too much for her, and she just wanted it to go away. Was there any happy memories she could recall? Any at all? It seemed there were not. All she could even think of was the terrible and painful ones.

Time seemed to go slower when she was depressed. Seconds became minutes and minutes became hours. The longer medic sat there, the more she would cry inside. It hurt her. Inside and out. Of only there was a way to-

"Allo, Doktor?"

It was the Heavy again. He had noticed her sadness today as well, and assumed now might be a better time to talk. Medic did not argue, she did not want to rudely tell him to leave. Besides, she needed somebody to talk to at the moment. She replied softly, with clear depression in her voice.

"Hallo..."

"Is feeling okay today?"

Medic paused at that question. She did not feel OK at all. It was the short conversation they had yesterday all over again. She wanted to say she was fine. She wanted to say that nothing was bothering her. She wanted to say she was as happy as she could ever be, but she couldn't. If she said she was feeling fine, it would come out in tears and Heavy would know something was going on. She would have to tell the truth.

But she was not ready for that yet. Not at all.

"Ja... I... I am feeling better..." Medic lied, trying her best to sound neutral.

Strange enough, Heavy believed her. "Alright... But if doktor is feeling upset, I am here to talk to."

"Danke, Herr Heavy..."

As the strong man left, Medic thought about what might have happened if she had told the truth. Would Heavy have helped her with the problem, or make her feel worse about it? She would never know until she decided to be truthful with him.

But what was the point? Letting somebody else know about her problem would only make her feel more upset about herself.

And all this lying about her problems made her feel even worse about herself. She needed to tell somebody about this soon, or it was going to consume her life.

* * *

'Do It.'

The voice in her head kept on forcing her. 'Do it.'

Medic hovered her hand over the telephone. She was not sure if this was the best choice. This would only make her feel like crying more, but she needed to at lease try. She picked up the phone and hesitantly dialed the number on the receiver. This was going to be the last time she tried. Or at least for this week.

Medic put the handset of the phone to her ear and listened to the phone ring on the other end. She waited for somebody to pick up. She was begging under her breath.

"Abholen... Abholen..."

But there was no answer. The phone proceeded to ring. Nobody picked up. This made Medic worry so much more. If she could not contact her husband, how would she know if he was safe? It was so difficult. She did not even know if he was alive...

'What if he is dead?' Medic thought to herself. 'What if he was in a horrible accident, and I am not there to help him?'

She thought about that for a while, and remembered how her husband was so much more medically advanced than herself. Perhaps if he was hurt, he could save himself. But even so, Medic worried for him, unsure what to do. She was here at the RED barracks, nowhere close or near her hometown in Germany. That was another one of the things that bothered her, the distance.

To be so far away from the place she was born gave her a big empty feeling inside. Although she had been with the RED team for a long time, she still felt very uncomfortable around this place. It did not look much like her original doctors office back at home. It looked much more expensive. And not to lie, Medic liked this place looking very nice. But she also hated to be in it. No matter how hard she tried to keep the place looking clean, it always ended up looking like a huge mess. Blood stains on the furniture, stacks of paper scattered everywhere, and not to mention the messes she needed to clean up after her many doves,

Medic did find a bit of enjoyment in this, however. Constantly cleaning up the messes made her feel a bit back at home. Being a housewife meant she had many chores to do, and cleaning up her office here at the base did remind her of how lovely the house looked afterward, and the lovely compliments her husband would give her after seeing what a wonderful job she had done.

But here, there was no thank you for her cleaning work. All of the others never saw Medic as the neat type, considering she had a big red blood stain on her uniform most of the time. It was not her fault, she did not intentionally smear all of her belongings in fluids and such. It just ends up on there when she preformed surgery. To be honest, she did not bother about the blood stains at all, even though it made her look very unclean. They did make her look fearless and care-free, which she was most of the time. But inside, she was calling out for somebody to love her once again.

No amount of small pleasures could cheer her up. The memories of cleaning, the way people looked up at her as a fearless woman, or the appreciation she got from the team for being such a great doctor. There was still that voice inside her crying for the love of another. And it never went away. Never. It bothered her to the point of where she began to drink booze to get over her cravings.

To do such a thing, especially at her age, was very unhealthy. But there was nothing else that came as a pleasure to her anymore other than alcohol. No matter how strong it was or how thick it was, as long as it made her stop feeling like complete garbage she would drink it. Although, when she woke up in the morning after drinking a few too many, she always felt like more garbage than before. But even that, Medic drank like she was being forced at gunpoint.

The team was beginning to question her. She used to be so active on the battlefield and around the base, but now she was just a quiet and sometimes grumpy old lady. And the fact that they did not know why made Medic feel even worse. They would start assuming reasons that were not true and rumors would clearly be spread to Mann Co., and she would get harassed for not acting mature.

There were so many problems she was thinking about now.

The loneliness was becoming the only thing she felt around herself.

* * *

_It is not a problem if you feel bad about yourself,_  
_But as long as you let that thought roam your mind,_  
_Things will only get worse._  
_Think happy thoughts. _  
_All you need is one._


	3. Chapter 3: Erinnerung

_"Mama? Papa? ist das sie?"_

_No. It was not them. It could not be. They were sleeping in the bed, Mama on my left and Papa on my right. But somebody had entered the house. Somebody had come inside tonight._

_It was strange. Nobody ever comes into the house during the night. We always lock our doors. Maybe somebody had broken in. Oh no, that is never good..._

_It was silent. There was nothing I could hear. I turned to my right and Papa was gone. He was there only minutes ago. Where could he be? Perhaps he went to go use the bathroom? Or something in that matter?_

_Just then, Mama whispered something to me in a nervous tone._

_"Wilma, Hol unter dem bett. Jetzt."_

_I was confused, but then she snapped at me, but she sounded more scared than angry when she did._

_"Jetzt! Jetzt!"_

_I did as told. I got off of the bed and crawled underneath it. Now what was I supposed to do?_

_I heard somebody coming upstairs. I shut my eyes tight. Tight as I could possibly shut them. I was terrified. I had no idea who was coming._

_It was just Papa._

_Papa started warning Mama about something. He asked where I was and Mama said I was safe. Papa took a sigh of relief and begun walking to the told Mama to hide in the closet._

_Mama just started to get off the bed when I heard thumping coming up the stairs._

_Before I could guess who it was, a big man burst down the door and quickly struck Papa with a fist._

_Papa fell down. As he attempted to get up, the man struck Papa again._

_And Again._

_Papa tried fighting back the best he could, but then more men entered the room. They all began to strike Papa, and I lay under the bed, watching this occur. I could hear Mama crying. I could hear her begging the men to stop. I wanted to go out there and help Papa, but what would happen if they saw me? What would they do?_

_Papa collapsed beside the bed. His head faced me._

_His eyes were blank, Blood ran from his nose and mouth. He had bruises all over his face. It was horrifying. I whispered._

_"P... Papa...?"_

_No answer. I whispered again._

_No answer._

_Papa was dead._

_I did my best to keep from crying. I did not want the men to hear me. They would probably kill me too._

_It hurt me, trying not to cry during this. It was all so sudden. It was all so insane. The men crawled on top of the bed, and I could hear Mama begging for them to stop. I heard her whine and cry. I heard clothes being torn. I heard flesh being ripped. I heard mama being choked by the men._

_I turned to face the bottom of the bed. I saw a splotch of red forming on the mattress. Blood started to drip upon my face and nightgown._

_The men laughed, and I heard a two gunshots. They had shot Mama and Papa in the head to ensure death. Now, I had much more drops of blood on me._

_I heard as the men left the bedroom._

_As the last man left, I heard a click._

_All of a sudden, the room was up in flames. Everything was burning. I felt my body becoming hot as I watched the whole place fall down and become ashes._

_"Ich werde sterben." I told myself. "Ich werde sterben. Ich werde sterben. Ich werde sterben."_

_I may not have died that day, but after watching the events of it, I truly wish I did._


End file.
